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Experimental Film
Experimental Film is a contemporary ghost story in which former Canadian film history teacher Lois Cairns-jobless and depressed in the wake of her son's autism diagnosis-accidentally discovers the existence of lost early 20th century Ontario filmmaker Mrs. A. Macalla Whitcomb. By deciding to investigate how Mrs. Whitcomb's obsessions might have led to her mysterious disappearance, Lois unwittingly invites the forces which literally haunt Mrs. Whitcomb's films into her life, eventually putting her son, her husband and herself in danger. Experimental Film mixes painful character detail with a creeping aura of dread to produce a fictionalized "memoir" designed to play on its readers' narrative expectations and pack an existentialist punch.
352 pages, Paperback
First published December 3, 2015
About the author
Gemma Files
174 books682 followersPreviously best-known as a film critic for Toronto's eye Weekly, teacher and screenwriter, Gemma Files first broke onto the international horror scene when her story "The Emperor's Old Bones" won the 1999 International Horror Guild award for Best Short Fiction. She is the author of two collections of short work (Kissing Carrion and The Worm in Every Heart) and two chapbooks of poetry (Bent Under Night and Dust Radio). Her Hexslinger Series trilogy is now complete: A Book of Tongues, A Rope of Thorns and A Tree of Bones, all available from ChiZine Publications.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 580 reviews
February 11, 2016
I know that some readers will pass this book by, claiming that they don't read ghost stories. I am here to assure you that this story is so much more than a simple supernatural tale. It challenges our belief systems, and forces us to look at things that were not meant to be seen. It is rich in history, legend and characters, with a compelling plot that draws us into its secrets. As the story progresses, we become the main character, seeking to unveil the truth and discovering the ties that bind. This book is beautifully written and highly recommended.
June 10, 2021
Experimental Film shows first-hand how a first-class concept isn’t enough to carry a novel. Gemma Files is incredibly knowledgeable about film, and it certainly shows. I was not at all surprised to find out she was a film critic and screenwriter in Canada. But it does mean that she falls into the trap of writers with specialisations like this; going into far too much unnecessary, incidental and boring detail about the way the industry works that they lose sight of the plot, or what makes a story engaging.
The story follows protagonist Lois Cairns as she tries to uncover the mystery behind a woman who may have been Canada’s first female filmmaker. Lois is an out of work film critic, ex-teacher, and mother to an autistic son. While reviewing freelance in Toronto’s underground film scene she embarks on a journey that takes her to derelict mansions, will make her delve deep into Eastern European folklore and come face to face with her own inner demons, as well as outside forces.
The concept for Experimental Film is a strong one. The medium of film has so much potential to create a stirring atmosphere. Film can convey so much within a very short space of time. If a picture can paint 1000 words, a moving picture can do even more. The disappointment is that the supernatural elements of the novel simply don’t really seem to hold any relevance to the art of film making, other than it being a convenient plot device that the author just happens to know something about. The antagonist as well seems incredibly out of place. Essentially, we have a sun worshiping demi-god who for some reason chooses to manifest in Toronto, a city that never seems to rise about 24 – 27 degrees Celsius, even in the height of summer. The setting, the premise, the antagonist; everything had potential, but the narrative simply didn’t make use of any of them. Files seemed to stick with familiar, rather than appropriate.
Lois Cairns herself was a well-developed character. She was interesting, flawed, relatable with the kinds of insecurities that we can all relate to. Unfortunately, most of her development happened within the first quarter of the novel, meaning that the plot didn’t really get going until half way through the book. Lois’ insecurities, while interesting, weren’t enough to carry the novel’s interest for so long. For a character with clear and obvious mental health issues (dealt with in a way that should have been refreshing) who was clearly on the verge of a breakdown when the book started, the characters that surrounded her really seemed to just blindly accept her supernatural experiences. No one seemed to question her in any real depth, which really stopped my suspension of disbelief as there was never any compelling evidence that anything supernatural was occurring, rather than Lois just having a breakdown.
The side characters of Experimental Film fared much worse in their development. Lois’ husband Simon existed to be the perfect supportive partner, her research assistant Safie was just a glorified sounding board, her son Clark (Lois and Clark…believe me, I groaned inwardly at that one) was autistic, which of course was used to create creepy-kid-communing-with-the-supernatural syndrome, which I found equal parts offensive and overdone within the genre, and the minor antagonist Wrob Barney was such an over-the-top caricature of narcissistic unprofessionalism that I simply couldn’t take him seriously. The minor characters were at best, archetypes, at worst, caricatures. They really took away from everything I feel Experimental Film was trying to be.
With poor pacing, far too much unnecessary exposition, a premise that didn’t deliver and a narrative that failed to scare, I must say that Experimental Film was a bit of a disappointment. All the parts were there, but nothing was followed through in a way that could satisfy. Bits and pieces read like poor imitations of other works, like Neil Gaiman’s American Gods mixed with Night Film by Marisha Pessl. If you’d like to know a lot about the Canadian underground film scene, old film stock, and how to get a Canadian Arts grant, then this is for you. Otherwise, there are more satisfying horror novels out there.
The story follows protagonist Lois Cairns as she tries to uncover the mystery behind a woman who may have been Canada’s first female filmmaker. Lois is an out of work film critic, ex-teacher, and mother to an autistic son. While reviewing freelance in Toronto’s underground film scene she embarks on a journey that takes her to derelict mansions, will make her delve deep into Eastern European folklore and come face to face with her own inner demons, as well as outside forces.
The concept for Experimental Film is a strong one. The medium of film has so much potential to create a stirring atmosphere. Film can convey so much within a very short space of time. If a picture can paint 1000 words, a moving picture can do even more. The disappointment is that the supernatural elements of the novel simply don’t really seem to hold any relevance to the art of film making, other than it being a convenient plot device that the author just happens to know something about. The antagonist as well seems incredibly out of place. Essentially, we have a sun worshiping demi-god who for some reason chooses to manifest in Toronto, a city that never seems to rise about 24 – 27 degrees Celsius, even in the height of summer. The setting, the premise, the antagonist; everything had potential, but the narrative simply didn’t make use of any of them. Files seemed to stick with familiar, rather than appropriate.
Lois Cairns herself was a well-developed character. She was interesting, flawed, relatable with the kinds of insecurities that we can all relate to. Unfortunately, most of her development happened within the first quarter of the novel, meaning that the plot didn’t really get going until half way through the book. Lois’ insecurities, while interesting, weren’t enough to carry the novel’s interest for so long. For a character with clear and obvious mental health issues (dealt with in a way that should have been refreshing) who was clearly on the verge of a breakdown when the book started, the characters that surrounded her really seemed to just blindly accept her supernatural experiences. No one seemed to question her in any real depth, which really stopped my suspension of disbelief as there was never any compelling evidence that anything supernatural was occurring, rather than Lois just having a breakdown.
The side characters of Experimental Film fared much worse in their development. Lois’ husband Simon existed to be the perfect supportive partner, her research assistant Safie was just a glorified sounding board, her son Clark (Lois and Clark…believe me, I groaned inwardly at that one) was autistic, which of course was used to create creepy-kid-communing-with-the-supernatural syndrome, which I found equal parts offensive and overdone within the genre, and the minor antagonist Wrob Barney was such an over-the-top caricature of narcissistic unprofessionalism that I simply couldn’t take him seriously. The minor characters were at best, archetypes, at worst, caricatures. They really took away from everything I feel Experimental Film was trying to be.
With poor pacing, far too much unnecessary exposition, a premise that didn’t deliver and a narrative that failed to scare, I must say that Experimental Film was a bit of a disappointment. All the parts were there, but nothing was followed through in a way that could satisfy. Bits and pieces read like poor imitations of other works, like Neil Gaiman’s American Gods mixed with Night Film by Marisha Pessl. If you’d like to know a lot about the Canadian underground film scene, old film stock, and how to get a Canadian Arts grant, then this is for you. Otherwise, there are more satisfying horror novels out there.
November 6, 2021
There is much of interest here in Experimental Film, a great set of main characters, autism finely depicted, and a weird, oddly resonant evil god. Despite all the goodies, though, I was not fully invested in the story. The best thing about it is the realistic depiction of a young couple with an autistic child and how maddening and rewarding it is. Lois is the main character and loves her husband and her son Clark with all her heart, but she is also an aficionado of film and craves meaning outside her home life.
Jobless, when the story begins, Lois gets a grant to study a little known Canadian film producer who may have been a trailblazer in the art. Lois happens to glimpse a film made by this woman at the turn of the century and knows it is brilliant. Little is known about the woman, except that she went missing and earlier her little boy also disappeared. Lois intends to find out more about this daring film producer, even if it cost her her own health. Lois gets intense migraines and has
recurrent insomnia. Someone or something doesn't want this body of work known and Lois has to figure out why.
Jobless, when the story begins, Lois gets a grant to study a little known Canadian film producer who may have been a trailblazer in the art. Lois happens to glimpse a film made by this woman at the turn of the century and knows it is brilliant. Little is known about the woman, except that she went missing and earlier her little boy also disappeared. Lois intends to find out more about this daring film producer, even if it cost her her own health. Lois gets intense migraines and has
recurrent insomnia. Someone or something doesn't want this body of work known and Lois has to figure out why.
April 22, 2017
Wow...all I really can say is wow. I have highlighted more passages in this than all the other books I've read combined, with the exception of Infinite Jest, I practically highlighted that whole book. I know I am prone to hyperbole and I pass out a lot of five star reviews (I cant help it, I Iove books) but this is one amazing piece of literature. She writes what is in my head, her comparing her fuckedupedness to her sons fuckedupedness put words to my thoughts and feelings. I also happen to love film and filmmaking so this was the book I've been waiting my whole life for. I waited a year to buy this after its release and then waited a few more months after buying to finally read, both way bad moves btw. I dont reread many books but I'm already looking forward to where I forget enough about this one to enjoy it for a second time. I give this my highest recommendation allowed by law!
July 20, 2023
“Horror is the removal of masks.”
― Robert Bloch
Gemma Files creates an authentically weird found footage ghost novel in Experimental Film. Where old clips of a Canadian paranormal event leads a film critic down a rabbit-hole of pagan gods, disability prejudice, film analysis, misogyny and why it sucks to try and make interesting movies in Canada.
I don't know if this book is intentionally trying to summon Dan Aykroyd, but with this paranormal talk and Canadian content, all it really needed was some vodka in a skull bottle and a decent jazz song and he's contractually obligated to show.
Just ask Fan-Expo.
Experimental Film is a story about haunted found footage, where the least haunted thing in the story is the found footage. It's about Canadian movies and the history of Canadian film and it also deeply represents struggles with autism and being on the spectrum. How even addressing the problem of being on the spectrum can alienate people around you, because it challenges their preconceptions of your relationship to them. Especially your parents. Also this book has some frank and honest discussion regarding pain medication addiction and self-treatment for chronic health problems. And there's a ghost goddess demon who decapitates pretentious Toronto hipsters.
Hey-ho, something for everybody!
Experimental Film shifts style and mood from the mundane to the unnatural. From the comedic and the glib to the deeply personal. All of this is part of its characterisation. It is about communicating the nature of the protagonist's personality. It has this Moby-Dick style info-dumping and just like Melville's novel, it is done to express the mania of the main character. Showing her connection to her son's autism and their obsessive (and spectrum-related) compulsions and how that drives them straight into the heart of a constantly building and unfolding mystery.
Where all they have to do is not look. Not remove the mask and see the horror behind it. But they look anyways. Because they must. Because that is who they are.
This book also deals with the problems of perception and art, and how developing kids on the spectrum use art, cinema and pop culture references as a way to do masking. How people on the spectrum develop patch-work skills in communications by consuming culture and then try to build on that. Oh yes, you think a lot of manic pixie artists do all those cultural references to sound cool. And in some cases you're right. But in some cases you couldn't be more wrong. Not everybody is trying to be Dennis Miller. Some of them are trying to build a veil of normalcy. Just as a way to live.
And that's what the main character in this novel is doing. They are constantly battling an interesting dynamic where they're engaging with coping mechanisms and searching for routines of safety, only to return to face the unknown. Where characters outside that perspective struggle with accepting what is happening, while the main character is thrust into believing. Not just because of what she experiences, but because of who she is and how she has lived and what she must face with her own son.
Notes on Canadian pop culture exist not so much to show you the world she lives in, but as a security blanket. Where film criticism, technical jargon, understanding movie camera tricks, become another form of masking. Just a person desperately grabbing for a sense of identity and safety and routine in a maelstrom. Searching for sense in a world that doesn't make sense.
Even the hipster artist is just another person slicing up other people's work and ideas and passing them off as their own identity. Just another piecemeal. Just another form of masking.
And the haunted footage? It's just a mask too. But for something much worse.
Which brings us to the ghost in the machine. The hidden current behind art and behind our symbols and visuals and ideas. The outsider. The old god, singing to us, reaching out to us in the flows and ebbs of infrasound. Abstract entities vibrating through a relational medium. Touching our world, as we use art to try and reach out and touch the unknown.
Bonus: Experimental Film also lets you in on the super secret reason why Canada makes some of the craziest movies you'll ever see. And why a masterpiece found footage film full of ghosts and goddesses would just be lost.
Because nobody notices when films get lost in Canada.
Canadian film just gets drowned out by Hollywood. We don't have cool accents and we can't make films with huge budgets and people can't tell the difference between Canadian indie films and normal American indie films. Hell some people in Iowa still think California looks like Vancouver. Those Hallmark movies saying they're taking place in Nashville shoot all their footage in Ontario cottage towns like Wiarton! And nine out of ten wine-guzzling suburban moms with a crush on Andrew Walker can't tell the difference.
So our culture, our identity gets buried in the dollar store DVD bargain bin. We get shovelled off to that part of Netflix and Amazon Prime where if you scroll too far everything starts looking cheap.
But like Takashi Miike once said: the great thing about nobody watching your films is that you can do whatever the hell you want. And a ton of Canadian films just secretly go out there and make crazy decisions that would get other similar movies banned for life.
Seriously.
Go watch the uncut Shortbus, Kissed (1996) or Leolo and report back. You're welcome. In advance. Unless you're young. Then don't watch any Canadian cinema. Ever. Especially not the stuff made for kids. You will be traumatised for the rest of your life. Canadian cinema is high tier lunacy. Beware the Maple drip.
That's what makes Canadian cinema the perfect place for something supernatural to hide. The perfect mask for a monster to wear. Because everything here is a little ... 'off'.
A haunted film wouldn't stand out in Canadian cinema. Because all our films seem haunted. So many abandoned projects, finished in name only, conceived in excitement, but delivered in a state of mourning.
And Ontario, Canada is the real life Derry Maine. Like that place from Stephen King's It. Every single city outside of Toronto feels like a small town. No matter if it has 500 people or 500,000 people. But that quiet, polite nature isn't a reflection of safety. It's just another mask. Ontario, Canada has been home to the largest amount of serial killers on the planet. It has horrific mass murders that would haunt any other place for decades.
It is a nest.
Very bad things happen to people in Ontario. Horrible things. Whole families run down in the street. Crowds butchered in maniacal outbursts. Children on ferries drowning. It's a place where kids and entire groups of people are poisoned by the water. Where the elderly are left to conditions that would best be described as inhuman. Where the disabled are quickly and quietly rushed from poverty to euthanasia by government doctrine. And then? Silence. Where even talking about what happened becomes inconvenient.
Rude.
And down comes the mask. And the bad feelings go to the memory hole. And we all smile and pretend everything is fine. And look the other way. And talk about Ryan Reynolds appearing in some town to make a big Hollywood movie.
Isn't life grand? Isn't life special.
My own life has been scarred by one of Ontario's infamous events. Not as spectacular as some, but the fire-fighters who saw it first-hand told me nearly 30 years later that they still remember it to this day. The smell of burning skin. And the screaming of the animals.
And that's why I liked Experimental Film. If there is a haunted movie, or a flick possessed by some demonic forgotten entity? A goddess that demands you never look directly at her or her grisly work? This is exactly where you would find it. I know that better than anybody.
Because I am one of the ghosts that is haunting this place.
8/10
― Robert Bloch
Gemma Files creates an authentically weird found footage ghost novel in Experimental Film. Where old clips of a Canadian paranormal event leads a film critic down a rabbit-hole of pagan gods, disability prejudice, film analysis, misogyny and why it sucks to try and make interesting movies in Canada.
I don't know if this book is intentionally trying to summon Dan Aykroyd, but with this paranormal talk and Canadian content, all it really needed was some vodka in a skull bottle and a decent jazz song and he's contractually obligated to show.
Just ask Fan-Expo.
Experimental Film is a story about haunted found footage, where the least haunted thing in the story is the found footage. It's about Canadian movies and the history of Canadian film and it also deeply represents struggles with autism and being on the spectrum. How even addressing the problem of being on the spectrum can alienate people around you, because it challenges their preconceptions of your relationship to them. Especially your parents. Also this book has some frank and honest discussion regarding pain medication addiction and self-treatment for chronic health problems. And there's a ghost goddess demon who decapitates pretentious Toronto hipsters.
Hey-ho, something for everybody!
Experimental Film shifts style and mood from the mundane to the unnatural. From the comedic and the glib to the deeply personal. All of this is part of its characterisation. It is about communicating the nature of the protagonist's personality. It has this Moby-Dick style info-dumping and just like Melville's novel, it is done to express the mania of the main character. Showing her connection to her son's autism and their obsessive (and spectrum-related) compulsions and how that drives them straight into the heart of a constantly building and unfolding mystery.
Where all they have to do is not look. Not remove the mask and see the horror behind it. But they look anyways. Because they must. Because that is who they are.
This book also deals with the problems of perception and art, and how developing kids on the spectrum use art, cinema and pop culture references as a way to do masking. How people on the spectrum develop patch-work skills in communications by consuming culture and then try to build on that. Oh yes, you think a lot of manic pixie artists do all those cultural references to sound cool. And in some cases you're right. But in some cases you couldn't be more wrong. Not everybody is trying to be Dennis Miller. Some of them are trying to build a veil of normalcy. Just as a way to live.
And that's what the main character in this novel is doing. They are constantly battling an interesting dynamic where they're engaging with coping mechanisms and searching for routines of safety, only to return to face the unknown. Where characters outside that perspective struggle with accepting what is happening, while the main character is thrust into believing. Not just because of what she experiences, but because of who she is and how she has lived and what she must face with her own son.
Notes on Canadian pop culture exist not so much to show you the world she lives in, but as a security blanket. Where film criticism, technical jargon, understanding movie camera tricks, become another form of masking. Just a person desperately grabbing for a sense of identity and safety and routine in a maelstrom. Searching for sense in a world that doesn't make sense.
Even the hipster artist is just another person slicing up other people's work and ideas and passing them off as their own identity. Just another piecemeal. Just another form of masking.
And the haunted footage? It's just a mask too. But for something much worse.
Which brings us to the ghost in the machine. The hidden current behind art and behind our symbols and visuals and ideas. The outsider. The old god, singing to us, reaching out to us in the flows and ebbs of infrasound. Abstract entities vibrating through a relational medium. Touching our world, as we use art to try and reach out and touch the unknown.
Bonus: Experimental Film also lets you in on the super secret reason why Canada makes some of the craziest movies you'll ever see. And why a masterpiece found footage film full of ghosts and goddesses would just be lost.
Because nobody notices when films get lost in Canada.
Canadian film just gets drowned out by Hollywood. We don't have cool accents and we can't make films with huge budgets and people can't tell the difference between Canadian indie films and normal American indie films. Hell some people in Iowa still think California looks like Vancouver. Those Hallmark movies saying they're taking place in Nashville shoot all their footage in Ontario cottage towns like Wiarton! And nine out of ten wine-guzzling suburban moms with a crush on Andrew Walker can't tell the difference.
So our culture, our identity gets buried in the dollar store DVD bargain bin. We get shovelled off to that part of Netflix and Amazon Prime where if you scroll too far everything starts looking cheap.
But like Takashi Miike once said: the great thing about nobody watching your films is that you can do whatever the hell you want. And a ton of Canadian films just secretly go out there and make crazy decisions that would get other similar movies banned for life.
Seriously.
Go watch the uncut Shortbus, Kissed (1996) or Leolo and report back. You're welcome. In advance. Unless you're young. Then don't watch any Canadian cinema. Ever. Especially not the stuff made for kids. You will be traumatised for the rest of your life. Canadian cinema is high tier lunacy. Beware the Maple drip.
That's what makes Canadian cinema the perfect place for something supernatural to hide. The perfect mask for a monster to wear. Because everything here is a little ... 'off'.
A haunted film wouldn't stand out in Canadian cinema. Because all our films seem haunted. So many abandoned projects, finished in name only, conceived in excitement, but delivered in a state of mourning.
And Ontario, Canada is the real life Derry Maine. Like that place from Stephen King's It. Every single city outside of Toronto feels like a small town. No matter if it has 500 people or 500,000 people. But that quiet, polite nature isn't a reflection of safety. It's just another mask. Ontario, Canada has been home to the largest amount of serial killers on the planet. It has horrific mass murders that would haunt any other place for decades.
It is a nest.
Very bad things happen to people in Ontario. Horrible things. Whole families run down in the street. Crowds butchered in maniacal outbursts. Children on ferries drowning. It's a place where kids and entire groups of people are poisoned by the water. Where the elderly are left to conditions that would best be described as inhuman. Where the disabled are quickly and quietly rushed from poverty to euthanasia by government doctrine. And then? Silence. Where even talking about what happened becomes inconvenient.
Rude.
And down comes the mask. And the bad feelings go to the memory hole. And we all smile and pretend everything is fine. And look the other way. And talk about Ryan Reynolds appearing in some town to make a big Hollywood movie.
Isn't life grand? Isn't life special.
My own life has been scarred by one of Ontario's infamous events. Not as spectacular as some, but the fire-fighters who saw it first-hand told me nearly 30 years later that they still remember it to this day. The smell of burning skin. And the screaming of the animals.
And that's why I liked Experimental Film. If there is a haunted movie, or a flick possessed by some demonic forgotten entity? A goddess that demands you never look directly at her or her grisly work? This is exactly where you would find it. I know that better than anybody.
Because I am one of the ghosts that is haunting this place.
8/10
January 30, 2023
In its purest form, done right, watching an experimental film is the closest you can come to dreaming another person's dreams. Which is why to watch one is, essentially, to invite another person into your head, hoping you emerge haunted.
Lois Cairns, former film critic and film history teacher, lives with her husband Simon and her son Clark in Toronto – a life marked by the search for a vocation, marked by depression, insomnia, intense self-doubts and lack of faith in her abilities as a mother to her autistic child. Catching the glimpse of a woman figure in an experimental movie made by her nemesis Wrob Barney leads her to the first female filmmaker of Canada, Iris Whitcomb – a lead she gladly follows. She actualy receives a funding to research Whitcomb's dubious history in Ontario and Europe, her fanatically religious father who destroyed their family and her connection to a certain Wendish deity called Lady Midday. She can even re-hire her former assistant Safie Hewsen, who, being of Armenian - Yezidi origin, brings along her own beliefs and deities.
As their research advances, Lois starts experiencing seizures and catches whiff of supernatural phenomena surrounding her and especially her son. Not long after does she become aware of undeniable parallels between her life and that of Mrs. Whitcomb, and these parallels sow the seeds of a fear she and her family might end up as the Whitcombs did: ruined.
I've always been prickly, and teaching brought that out in me extra hard, especially when people got really stupid.
Problem main character. If we could award literary characters according to their unlikability, Lois would be Queen. Or Goddess. And wouldn't care. And she still would be bickering, dissecting the point of such an award, smartassing about the historical meaning and development of queendom and godhood in the Western world because we're surely all idiots and need her to explain. Fueled by her self-diagnosed neurodivergence and her depressive state, relying on her almost savant-level knowledge of anything film and mythology, she explains everything to bits and pieces, clogging the plot with unnecessarily wordy background descriptions, information on film history, commentaries, explanations. She drowns any concept remotely interesting by showering us with info-dumps.
Take for instance, the passage she is visited by a night terror. As soon as the word "night terror" is pronounced, the author jumps to a new paragraph explaining what a night terror is historically, why it is different than a nightmare and its interpretations, and then finally going on to describe what happens in the middle of the night. Any suspense that was potentially built up until that point completely ruined.
These passages, some of which admittedly genuinely, subjectively interesting and even useful for creating an atmosphere and solidifying Lois' disposition, unfortunately make up the bigger part of the book and hindered the flow for me. Even though you can sometimes kind of see where she is coming from, especially later in the story, it was plain exhausting and frustrating for me to be lead through this book by someone of Lois' nature, I feel tired having finished this. Not even the remaining three easy-going, one-sided and extremely simple side characters can ease that exhaustion – Lois' selfless husband Simon, her glorified assistant Safie and her saint-like mother Lee are all there to accommodate her and nothing else.
[...]but I'd never been able to resist a new myth, creation or otherwise.
No doubt that the weaving of different “mythologies” and their interaction is brilliantly done. Obviously it is kind of the point of folk horror to take these elements and use them for the consumption of horror related entertainment. I am not a religious person at all, on the contrary, I'm actually pretty godless, but I still feel a slight uneasiness when authors use different beliefs in their fiction for this purpose, to make their stories more interesting. The Yezidi elements used here leave the same bad taste in my mouth. Not to mention minor incongruities while doing so – like speaking of the lack of “human” qualities of a certain Yezidi figure, it being beyond good and evil, but describing this figure as “he” and “him” all the while, giving it a definite human quality of gender.
Contrary to what your impression may be, I am not ranting here at all. I love Gemma Files and I know her writing and that is why I consciously decided to read Experimental Film. There are absolutely brilliant bits here, which unfortunately get lost because focus is so much on a very peculiar main character; the film theory which is Files' home run, some genuinely scary moments, an insanely interesting concept and (arguably) pioneering neurodivergent main characters. You just need to invest some time to get through and appreciate what you like in it.
Lois Cairns, former film critic and film history teacher, lives with her husband Simon and her son Clark in Toronto – a life marked by the search for a vocation, marked by depression, insomnia, intense self-doubts and lack of faith in her abilities as a mother to her autistic child. Catching the glimpse of a woman figure in an experimental movie made by her nemesis Wrob Barney leads her to the first female filmmaker of Canada, Iris Whitcomb – a lead she gladly follows. She actualy receives a funding to research Whitcomb's dubious history in Ontario and Europe, her fanatically religious father who destroyed their family and her connection to a certain Wendish deity called Lady Midday. She can even re-hire her former assistant Safie Hewsen, who, being of Armenian - Yezidi origin, brings along her own beliefs and deities.
As their research advances, Lois starts experiencing seizures and catches whiff of supernatural phenomena surrounding her and especially her son. Not long after does she become aware of undeniable parallels between her life and that of Mrs. Whitcomb, and these parallels sow the seeds of a fear she and her family might end up as the Whitcombs did: ruined.
I've always been prickly, and teaching brought that out in me extra hard, especially when people got really stupid.
Problem main character. If we could award literary characters according to their unlikability, Lois would be Queen. Or Goddess. And wouldn't care. And she still would be bickering, dissecting the point of such an award, smartassing about the historical meaning and development of queendom and godhood in the Western world because we're surely all idiots and need her to explain. Fueled by her self-diagnosed neurodivergence and her depressive state, relying on her almost savant-level knowledge of anything film and mythology, she explains everything to bits and pieces, clogging the plot with unnecessarily wordy background descriptions, information on film history, commentaries, explanations. She drowns any concept remotely interesting by showering us with info-dumps.
Take for instance, the passage she is visited by a night terror. As soon as the word "night terror" is pronounced, the author jumps to a new paragraph explaining what a night terror is historically, why it is different than a nightmare and its interpretations, and then finally going on to describe what happens in the middle of the night. Any suspense that was potentially built up until that point completely ruined.
These passages, some of which admittedly genuinely, subjectively interesting and even useful for creating an atmosphere and solidifying Lois' disposition, unfortunately make up the bigger part of the book and hindered the flow for me. Even though you can sometimes kind of see where she is coming from, especially later in the story, it was plain exhausting and frustrating for me to be lead through this book by someone of Lois' nature, I feel tired having finished this. Not even the remaining three easy-going, one-sided and extremely simple side characters can ease that exhaustion – Lois' selfless husband Simon, her glorified assistant Safie and her saint-like mother Lee are all there to accommodate her and nothing else.
[...]but I'd never been able to resist a new myth, creation or otherwise.
No doubt that the weaving of different “mythologies” and their interaction is brilliantly done. Obviously it is kind of the point of folk horror to take these elements and use them for the consumption of horror related entertainment. I am not a religious person at all, on the contrary, I'm actually pretty godless, but I still feel a slight uneasiness when authors use different beliefs in their fiction for this purpose, to make their stories more interesting. The Yezidi elements used here leave the same bad taste in my mouth. Not to mention minor incongruities while doing so – like speaking of the lack of “human” qualities of a certain Yezidi figure, it being beyond good and evil, but describing this figure as “he” and “him” all the while, giving it a definite human quality of gender.
Contrary to what your impression may be, I am not ranting here at all. I love Gemma Files and I know her writing and that is why I consciously decided to read Experimental Film. There are absolutely brilliant bits here, which unfortunately get lost because focus is so much on a very peculiar main character; the film theory which is Files' home run, some genuinely scary moments, an insanely interesting concept and (arguably) pioneering neurodivergent main characters. You just need to invest some time to get through and appreciate what you like in it.
November 11, 2020
Verdict: Simply excellent.
Not only is Experimental Film a book that pushed every single one of my horror-loving buttons, it is also a story very well told, one that grabbed my attention on the second page of chapter one and didn't let up, not for one instant. And it was done without tentacles, walking dead, or splatter, although, as the main character of this story reveals more than once, there are most certainly cosmic forces at work in this tale:
"...the world is full of holes behind which numinous presences lurk -- secrets no one should ever have to see, or want to. And those who do will never be the same."
If you want the basic plot outline with absolutely no spoilers, I've posted more about it here.
The very haunting story in this book is an absolute hackle raiser that had me flip flip flipping pages, but at the same time, there are also a LOT of interesting things going on here outside of the creepy elements. There are the main character's experiences as the mother of an autistic child, the novel's focus on films, on writing, on art in general and much, much more. After reading about the author just briefly, it seems that she's pouring out parts of her own story into these pages, something that when done well tends to augment an author's work, and here it brings an added layer of life to this book. I loved one line in particular where she says that "doing your art -- your work -- can help you save your own life," and that idea most certainly comes across in this book.
As a plain-old, average but a bit picky sort of reader person, I'll just say that this book has everything that I could possibly want in a modern horror novel; considering that my real obsession is in works from the past, that's saying a lot.
Not only is Experimental Film a book that pushed every single one of my horror-loving buttons, it is also a story very well told, one that grabbed my attention on the second page of chapter one and didn't let up, not for one instant. And it was done without tentacles, walking dead, or splatter, although, as the main character of this story reveals more than once, there are most certainly cosmic forces at work in this tale:
"...the world is full of holes behind which numinous presences lurk -- secrets no one should ever have to see, or want to. And those who do will never be the same."
If you want the basic plot outline with absolutely no spoilers, I've posted more about it here.
The very haunting story in this book is an absolute hackle raiser that had me flip flip flipping pages, but at the same time, there are also a LOT of interesting things going on here outside of the creepy elements. There are the main character's experiences as the mother of an autistic child, the novel's focus on films, on writing, on art in general and much, much more. After reading about the author just briefly, it seems that she's pouring out parts of her own story into these pages, something that when done well tends to augment an author's work, and here it brings an added layer of life to this book. I loved one line in particular where she says that "doing your art -- your work -- can help you save your own life," and that idea most certainly comes across in this book.
As a plain-old, average but a bit picky sort of reader person, I'll just say that this book has everything that I could possibly want in a modern horror novel; considering that my real obsession is in works from the past, that's saying a lot.
May 26, 2022
3.75
Es rarísimo que este libro tiene absolutamente todos los elementos para encantarme (leyendas, folklore, desapariciones misteriosas, películas malditas) y aún así no fue un cinco estrellas. En mi segundo acercamiento a Gemma Files compruebo que sus temas me parecen fascinantes pero que hay algo en su estilo de escritura que me cuesta trabajo. Como autora canadiense veo en ella mucha inquietud de explorar la diáspora de comunidades y la convergencia de diferentes tradiciones en Canadá. (Algo así como Neil Gaiman en American Gods habla sobre todos esos dioses que llegaron con los inmigrantes a EEUU).
Hay escenas escalofriantes en esta historia, pero se eclipsan un poco con el énfasis en el drama familiar de la protagonista. Si bien me gustó la manera en que la maternidad de un hijo con necesidades especiales está retratada (no romantizada), la verdad es que Lois no fue santo de mi devoción. Quería más historia de la Sra. Whitcomb y la dama del mediodía y menos de Lois. También aprecié que hubiera algunos guiños a personajes de su novela anterior "We will all go down together".
Es rarísimo que este libro tiene absolutamente todos los elementos para encantarme (leyendas, folklore, desapariciones misteriosas, películas malditas) y aún así no fue un cinco estrellas. En mi segundo acercamiento a Gemma Files compruebo que sus temas me parecen fascinantes pero que hay algo en su estilo de escritura que me cuesta trabajo. Como autora canadiense veo en ella mucha inquietud de explorar la diáspora de comunidades y la convergencia de diferentes tradiciones en Canadá. (Algo así como Neil Gaiman en American Gods habla sobre todos esos dioses que llegaron con los inmigrantes a EEUU).
Hay escenas escalofriantes en esta historia, pero se eclipsan un poco con el énfasis en el drama familiar de la protagonista. Si bien me gustó la manera en que la maternidad de un hijo con necesidades especiales está retratada (no romantizada), la verdad es que Lois no fue santo de mi devoción. Quería más historia de la Sra. Whitcomb y la dama del mediodía y menos de Lois. También aprecié que hubiera algunos guiños a personajes de su novela anterior "We will all go down together".
October 8, 2022
Experimental Film has a unique and interesting mythology, and Gemma Files is a fantastic writer, but I feel like I wanted to like this book more than I actually did.
no matter it's actual narrative content, every movie is a ghost story
The book is rich in Canadian film history (which I love), but throughout the first half I felt like I should be sitting in a lecture hall taking notes. It is just so packed full of dry information that maybe wasn't really needed.
However, the second half really picked up and ended with a bang.
Good book, but I probably wouldn't read it twice.
no matter it's actual narrative content, every movie is a ghost story
The book is rich in Canadian film history (which I love), but throughout the first half I felt like I should be sitting in a lecture hall taking notes. It is just so packed full of dry information that maybe wasn't really needed.
However, the second half really picked up and ended with a bang.
Good book, but I probably wouldn't read it twice.
September 26, 2018
I just realized that this is the second book by a Canadian author that takes place in Canada that I've read this month. Coincidence? Yep. But it makes me want to read more from Canadian writers. Both books are at the top of my favorites list for this year.
I'm sincerely stressed about writing this review and doing the book justice without giving away anything that isn't on the blurb. If you look at the back of the book, that's quite a long synopsis, and yet the book still keeps its most interesting and disturbing elements a secret. I want readers to discover those things the same way I did, so I need to tread carefully. That means I'm going to leave out any kind of plot recap. Just know that the blurb does not spoil this book.
I love stories where a character discovers something unusual and mysterious, and thus becomes utterly obsessed with finding out the true circumstances surrounding whatever they discovered. I'm a lover of research, and an intensely curious person, so I can relate to Lois's complete obsession with a snippet of silver nitrate silent film. When I read books like this I absolutely love reading about the process the characters go through to uncover more and more information. It doesn't matter if it's fiction. It's real to me while I'm reading it, and part of this book is actually based on real life folklore. And let me just say how much fun I had researching it after I was done.
I found the antagonist of this story to be darkly enchanting and unique. Those silver nitrate films are seared into my brain, and the images Lois discovers during her investigation are incredibly vivid too. That's fantastic writing. I love how Files lays out the story. It's nonlinear to an extent. You get hints about what is about to happen, and in some cases she jumps forward in the narrative and then goes back and explains what happened. This is all due to Lois's point of view, and it works incredibly well. Files builds tension and a sense of dread throughout the entire novel, and it's incredibly effective. I was on the edge of my seat for a lot of this novel.
I absolutely adore this book, and I urge all of my friends who have been thinking about reading it or who already own it to bump it up on their TBRs. It's definitely going into my list of my favorite books read in 2018.
I'm sincerely stressed about writing this review and doing the book justice without giving away anything that isn't on the blurb. If you look at the back of the book, that's quite a long synopsis, and yet the book still keeps its most interesting and disturbing elements a secret. I want readers to discover those things the same way I did, so I need to tread carefully. That means I'm going to leave out any kind of plot recap. Just know that the blurb does not spoil this book.
I love stories where a character discovers something unusual and mysterious, and thus becomes utterly obsessed with finding out the true circumstances surrounding whatever they discovered. I'm a lover of research, and an intensely curious person, so I can relate to Lois's complete obsession with a snippet of silver nitrate silent film. When I read books like this I absolutely love reading about the process the characters go through to uncover more and more information. It doesn't matter if it's fiction. It's real to me while I'm reading it, and part of this book is actually based on real life folklore. And let me just say how much fun I had researching it after I was done.
I found the antagonist of this story to be darkly enchanting and unique. Those silver nitrate films are seared into my brain, and the images Lois discovers during her investigation are incredibly vivid too. That's fantastic writing. I love how Files lays out the story. It's nonlinear to an extent. You get hints about what is about to happen, and in some cases she jumps forward in the narrative and then goes back and explains what happened. This is all due to Lois's point of view, and it works incredibly well. Files builds tension and a sense of dread throughout the entire novel, and it's incredibly effective. I was on the edge of my seat for a lot of this novel.
I absolutely adore this book, and I urge all of my friends who have been thinking about reading it or who already own it to bump it up on their TBRs. It's definitely going into my list of my favorite books read in 2018.
October 1, 2022
3.0 stars
I appreciated that this book was willing to provide a raw and uncomfortable portrayal of mothers. Furthermore, I also appreciate finding ownvoices stories. Yet, while honest, the representation ended up feeling very sad as it focused so much on the challenges of raising a neurodiverse child. As for the story, I really struggled to connect with the story and realized that I'm just not that interested in the Canadian film industry.
I appreciated that this book was willing to provide a raw and uncomfortable portrayal of mothers. Furthermore, I also appreciate finding ownvoices stories. Yet, while honest, the representation ended up feeling very sad as it focused so much on the challenges of raising a neurodiverse child. As for the story, I really struggled to connect with the story and realized that I'm just not that interested in the Canadian film industry.
March 2, 2024
Titulo: Experimental film
Autor: Gemma Files
Motivo de lectura: #LetrasMacabras2024
Lectura / Relectura: Lectura
Mi edicion: Electronico
Puntuacion: 2.5/5
De esos libros que practicamente nada funciono para mi, una verdadera pena.
Como primer punto es un libro catalogado como "horror" y realmente le falto mas escenas del genero.
La autora hace muchisimo enfasis en la protagonista siendo retratada como una drama queen que encuentra problemas y conflicto en absolutamente todo, especialmente en la maternidad (tanto propia como la relacion con su madre). Si este libro lo vendieran como una critica a la no romantizacion de lo que es la maternidad estaria bien, pero esa no es la tematica del libro, y la autora hace tanto enfasis en este punto (usando practicamente 3/4 de la trama) que cuando comienza la accion yo ya habia perdido el interes en el libro. La ultima parte del libro va a mucha velocidad, como que todo se precipita demasiado rapido, y hacer eso le quita la magia al relato. La autora administra muy mal los tiempos en la trama.
Otro punto del libro es que se aborda el cine experimental, con muchas referencias y tecnisismos. El cine experimental es para un publico muy particular, tengo practicamente nula experiencia en eso, y entonces esa parte la encontre muy aburrida.
La prosa es buena, pero sinceramente no volveria a leer a la autora.
Autor: Gemma Files
Motivo de lectura: #LetrasMacabras2024
Lectura / Relectura: Lectura
Mi edicion: Electronico
Puntuacion: 2.5/5
De esos libros que practicamente nada funciono para mi, una verdadera pena.
Como primer punto es un libro catalogado como "horror" y realmente le falto mas escenas del genero.
La autora hace muchisimo enfasis en la protagonista siendo retratada como una drama queen que encuentra problemas y conflicto en absolutamente todo, especialmente en la maternidad (tanto propia como la relacion con su madre). Si este libro lo vendieran como una critica a la no romantizacion de lo que es la maternidad estaria bien, pero esa no es la tematica del libro, y la autora hace tanto enfasis en este punto (usando practicamente 3/4 de la trama) que cuando comienza la accion yo ya habia perdido el interes en el libro. La ultima parte del libro va a mucha velocidad, como que todo se precipita demasiado rapido, y hacer eso le quita la magia al relato. La autora administra muy mal los tiempos en la trama.
Otro punto del libro es que se aborda el cine experimental, con muchas referencias y tecnisismos. El cine experimental es para un publico muy particular, tengo practicamente nula experiencia en eso, y entonces esa parte la encontre muy aburrida.
La prosa es buena, pero sinceramente no volveria a leer a la autora.
November 2, 2020
“In its purest form, done right, watching an experimental film is the closest you can come to dreaming another person’s dreams. Which is why to watch one is, essentially, to invite another person into your head, hoping you emerge haunted.”
So, that one was a weird reading experience. I’ve loved the Gemma Files short stories I have come across in various weird fiction/cosmic horror anthologies I’ve read over the past few years, and considering how much I love films (when they are made to be more than vapid entertainment, that is), I figured this would be a good pick to wrap up my Spooktober marathon. I didn’t count on a few elements hitting as close to home as they did, which left me a little shaken before I’d even gotten to the part where there’s a ghost story.
Lois Cairns is not in a great place: unemployed, struggling with caring for her autistic son and with her own mental health issues, she scrapes a living reviewing indie films – which is how she becomes intrigued with a few frames sampled in a short film, “Untitled 13”. The frames seem to be part of a collection of films lost at the turn of the 20th century, when film technology was still in its infancy, and this collection is in its turn linked to the disappearance of a mysterious socialite who was obsessed with the occult – specifically with an old legend from the Balkans.
Creepy ghost story aside, the protagonist gave me quite a punch to the gut. The way Lois thinks about her family, her work and its relevance echoes thoughts that I’ve found hiding inside my head with uncomfortable accuracy, so obviously, I was instantly sympathetic to her anguish, her guilt, her curiosity and her frustrations, and I was completely invested in her story. I was very impressed with the way Files built this character: people who have personality traits that put them right on the edge of the autism spectrum are naturally interested in, if not fascinated with, the language of media like movies, television, comic books and novels (think Abed in "Community"). They are comforting, obey certain rules, which makes them easy to understand and navigate, as opposed to unpredictable and confusing human interactions. That someone like Lois would be a film scholar makes perfect sense, her interactions with her son, who's condition is much more difficult than her because he can't socialize, are also extremely realistic - as are her interactions with her mother.
There was also something wonderfully and quaintly Canadian about the whole thing. Not just because they routinely hang out at Tim Horton's, but because everyone has mixed cultural background they are very aware of. Canada, like the US, is full of people whose family emigrated here a few generations ago, but it seems to me like people in Canada feel strongly about preserving their cultural patrimony, as where people in America often tend to leave that behind and try to homogenize.
If you like clever story building and slow-burn ghost stories, this book will not disappoint.
So, that one was a weird reading experience. I’ve loved the Gemma Files short stories I have come across in various weird fiction/cosmic horror anthologies I’ve read over the past few years, and considering how much I love films (when they are made to be more than vapid entertainment, that is), I figured this would be a good pick to wrap up my Spooktober marathon. I didn’t count on a few elements hitting as close to home as they did, which left me a little shaken before I’d even gotten to the part where there’s a ghost story.
Lois Cairns is not in a great place: unemployed, struggling with caring for her autistic son and with her own mental health issues, she scrapes a living reviewing indie films – which is how she becomes intrigued with a few frames sampled in a short film, “Untitled 13”. The frames seem to be part of a collection of films lost at the turn of the 20th century, when film technology was still in its infancy, and this collection is in its turn linked to the disappearance of a mysterious socialite who was obsessed with the occult – specifically with an old legend from the Balkans.
Creepy ghost story aside, the protagonist gave me quite a punch to the gut. The way Lois thinks about her family, her work and its relevance echoes thoughts that I’ve found hiding inside my head with uncomfortable accuracy, so obviously, I was instantly sympathetic to her anguish, her guilt, her curiosity and her frustrations, and I was completely invested in her story. I was very impressed with the way Files built this character: people who have personality traits that put them right on the edge of the autism spectrum are naturally interested in, if not fascinated with, the language of media like movies, television, comic books and novels (think Abed in "Community"). They are comforting, obey certain rules, which makes them easy to understand and navigate, as opposed to unpredictable and confusing human interactions. That someone like Lois would be a film scholar makes perfect sense, her interactions with her son, who's condition is much more difficult than her because he can't socialize, are also extremely realistic - as are her interactions with her mother.
There was also something wonderfully and quaintly Canadian about the whole thing. Not just because they routinely hang out at Tim Horton's, but because everyone has mixed cultural background they are very aware of. Canada, like the US, is full of people whose family emigrated here a few generations ago, but it seems to me like people in Canada feel strongly about preserving their cultural patrimony, as where people in America often tend to leave that behind and try to homogenize.
If you like clever story building and slow-burn ghost stories, this book will not disappoint.
Shelved as 'dreaded-dnf'
July 5, 2023Setting aside for now. After 3.5 hours I've learned a lot about Canadian film history. I don't care about the characters thus far, except for the little boy.
Since I own this in print as well, maybe I'll try reading it at some point, instead of listening to this audio.
No rating/no review
Since I own this in print as well, maybe I'll try reading it at some point, instead of listening to this audio.
No rating/no review
April 16, 2016
I've known Gemma File's work for a while now. In fact, we were "TOC Mates" in A Clockwork Phoenix #2. I believe that her outstanding story in that volume, "each thing i show you is a piece of my death" served as a springboard to Experimental Film. Both are dark tales dealing with cinema, a subject on which Files is, obviously, an expert.
Truth be told, this is the first book I have ever pre-ordered before the book was even finished. Yes, it took me a while to get around to reading it (go look at my TBR list to find out why - and, yes, I intend on reading all of those and reviewing the vast majority of them - not to mention other projects of my own I've been working on), so while I was an early adapter, the rest of the reading world passed me by. No problem. It was worth the wait!
Experimental film is about exactly what the title says. The narrator, Lois Cairns, a lapsed teacher of film at a local (sham) school and sometimes film-critic, discovers the work of one Mrs. Whitcomb, possibly Canada's first film-maker, who vanished from a train after making a series of films about . . . well, I'm not going to give it away so easily.
Nor does File's give it away easily. This is a multi-layered work, really a melange of literary techniques and styles, each used for a specific purpose; not for the conceit of the method itself, but as a means to an end. Yes, the book is, appropriately, "experimental," at least intermittently. But the use of what otherwise would be charlatan's tricks to cover up bad writing are actually carefully, purposefully crafted pieces that weave into the fabric of the story. The method, here, matters - much like it does in cinema itself.
But these methods are used sparingly. The book breathes with its own literary life, and, as usual, Gemma File's voice is beautiful and brilliant. Take, for instance, this passage:
You think that being blind is darkness, and sometime's that's true, yes. Mostly. Not always, though.
When I woke up back in St. Mike's, Mrs. Whitcomb's ghost voice in my ear and her bony hand in mine, the world around me had all gone hot and stark, consumed by the idea of brightness without any of its effects. Reduced to a vague tint of red, polluting an otherwise unbroken absence. And what I found was that this would wax and wane as time went on, with no apparent consideration for what time of day it was supposed to be, outside my own head - that 'round midnight I often seemed to orbit a weird, unblinking light, pitiless as some supermax prison cell's single bulb, while at noon things became still and quiet, colourless, nothing but gloom on gloom.
Of course, you'll gather from these paragraphs that Experimental Film is a horror novel, and you'd be right. However, this work is so much more than that. File's ability to portray the frustrations of being the parent of an autistic child is truly amazing. And this is not just a side issue, it is dealt with front and center, as a vital part of the plot with all the love and frustration, all the impatience and longing that one would expect from the mother of an autistic son. Lois Cairns is no saint, but she is human. She is flawed and real. I believed in her. Watching Lois negotiate between the relationships she has with her son, her awkward mother, her loving husband, and another powerful, vengeful member of the cinemaliteratti (yes, I just made that word up - get over it) is a treat in-and-of itself, without the supernatural horror elements. This book is not really about ghosts, it's about relationships . . . which might happen to include some ghosts.
But if you're not predisposed to reading "Horror" books, don't worry. This work is more grey than black, more subtly creepy than startlingly scary. Think Twilight Zone, not The Exorcist. Dark? Yes. Weird? Definitely. Pee your pants scary? Nope. It is ethereal and fascinating, while being solidly grounded in the day-to-day struggle of just getting on and getting along.
Still, the work itself is a sort of cinematic piece, with all the grit and character that implies. It's not an action movie in full color. It is an old black and white. A slightly surreal piece, something not nearly as bizarre as The Brother's Quay, but maybe Ingmar Bergman strange, in places. One can almost see the scenes glowing unevenly and hear the "tick-tick-tick" of a projector in the back of one's mind while reading. And the climactic scenes are like a hot bulb burning through the black film, moving from utter darkness, spreading into irregular sepia splotches, to gold pinpoints that eat away the obfuscation, to reveal that which you had hoped would remain hidden, in blinding brilliance.
Brilliant. Yes, that's the word for it. Brilliant!
Strongly, strongly recommended. Read it alone at night by the light of a single projector bulb. I dare you.
Truth be told, this is the first book I have ever pre-ordered before the book was even finished. Yes, it took me a while to get around to reading it (go look at my TBR list to find out why - and, yes, I intend on reading all of those and reviewing the vast majority of them - not to mention other projects of my own I've been working on), so while I was an early adapter, the rest of the reading world passed me by. No problem. It was worth the wait!
Experimental film is about exactly what the title says. The narrator, Lois Cairns, a lapsed teacher of film at a local (sham) school and sometimes film-critic, discovers the work of one Mrs. Whitcomb, possibly Canada's first film-maker, who vanished from a train after making a series of films about . . . well, I'm not going to give it away so easily.
Nor does File's give it away easily. This is a multi-layered work, really a melange of literary techniques and styles, each used for a specific purpose; not for the conceit of the method itself, but as a means to an end. Yes, the book is, appropriately, "experimental," at least intermittently. But the use of what otherwise would be charlatan's tricks to cover up bad writing are actually carefully, purposefully crafted pieces that weave into the fabric of the story. The method, here, matters - much like it does in cinema itself.
But these methods are used sparingly. The book breathes with its own literary life, and, as usual, Gemma File's voice is beautiful and brilliant. Take, for instance, this passage:
You think that being blind is darkness, and sometime's that's true, yes. Mostly. Not always, though.
When I woke up back in St. Mike's, Mrs. Whitcomb's ghost voice in my ear and her bony hand in mine, the world around me had all gone hot and stark, consumed by the idea of brightness without any of its effects. Reduced to a vague tint of red, polluting an otherwise unbroken absence. And what I found was that this would wax and wane as time went on, with no apparent consideration for what time of day it was supposed to be, outside my own head - that 'round midnight I often seemed to orbit a weird, unblinking light, pitiless as some supermax prison cell's single bulb, while at noon things became still and quiet, colourless, nothing but gloom on gloom.
Of course, you'll gather from these paragraphs that Experimental Film is a horror novel, and you'd be right. However, this work is so much more than that. File's ability to portray the frustrations of being the parent of an autistic child is truly amazing. And this is not just a side issue, it is dealt with front and center, as a vital part of the plot with all the love and frustration, all the impatience and longing that one would expect from the mother of an autistic son. Lois Cairns is no saint, but she is human. She is flawed and real. I believed in her. Watching Lois negotiate between the relationships she has with her son, her awkward mother, her loving husband, and another powerful, vengeful member of the cinemaliteratti (yes, I just made that word up - get over it) is a treat in-and-of itself, without the supernatural horror elements. This book is not really about ghosts, it's about relationships . . . which might happen to include some ghosts.
But if you're not predisposed to reading "Horror" books, don't worry. This work is more grey than black, more subtly creepy than startlingly scary. Think Twilight Zone, not The Exorcist. Dark? Yes. Weird? Definitely. Pee your pants scary? Nope. It is ethereal and fascinating, while being solidly grounded in the day-to-day struggle of just getting on and getting along.
Still, the work itself is a sort of cinematic piece, with all the grit and character that implies. It's not an action movie in full color. It is an old black and white. A slightly surreal piece, something not nearly as bizarre as The Brother's Quay, but maybe Ingmar Bergman strange, in places. One can almost see the scenes glowing unevenly and hear the "tick-tick-tick" of a projector in the back of one's mind while reading. And the climactic scenes are like a hot bulb burning through the black film, moving from utter darkness, spreading into irregular sepia splotches, to gold pinpoints that eat away the obfuscation, to reveal that which you had hoped would remain hidden, in blinding brilliance.
Brilliant. Yes, that's the word for it. Brilliant!
Strongly, strongly recommended. Read it alone at night by the light of a single projector bulb. I dare you.
June 27, 2017
A former Canadian film history teacher, investigates a decades old mystery surrounding the disappearance of a ground breaking experimental film maker. The secret to her disappearance lies in the content and meaning contained in her films. Lois Cairns is going to have to put it all on the line to unravel the ghosts of the past and find out the truth about what really happened back in the day. That is if it doesn’t kill her and her family first.
I am not sure this will be everyone’s cuppa. It was a bit of a slow burn in parts and had an interesting format. Normally those things may throw me off, but I felt it actually added to the building tension and dread as the story unraveled. I dug it.
Smartly done and well written. A Soild 4 Stars and Highly Recommended.
I am not sure this will be everyone’s cuppa. It was a bit of a slow burn in parts and had an interesting format. Normally those things may throw me off, but I felt it actually added to the building tension and dread as the story unraveled. I dug it.
Smartly done and well written. A Soild 4 Stars and Highly Recommended.
March 6, 2016
I did not finish this book. my loan expired and I didn't care enough to extend it. the ghost story part is great but the film talk isn't. maybe i'll return to it someday.
April 9, 2021
-Temas de fondo interesantes, frente más frágil.-
Género. Narrativa fantástica.
Lo que nos cuenta. El libro Experimental film (publicación original: Experimental Film, 2015) nos permite conocer los eventos que rodearon la extraña desaparición de Iris Dunlopp Whitcomb a comienzos del siglo XX y también a Lois Cairns, una profesora de cinematografía desempleada que se ve atraída por el caso de la señora Whitcomb y su relación con las primeras películas experimentales realizadas en Canadá. Lois, con pareja paciente y un hijo dentro del espectro autista, comenzará a obsesionarse con el asunto.
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
https://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com...
Género. Narrativa fantástica.
Lo que nos cuenta. El libro Experimental film (publicación original: Experimental Film, 2015) nos permite conocer los eventos que rodearon la extraña desaparición de Iris Dunlopp Whitcomb a comienzos del siglo XX y también a Lois Cairns, una profesora de cinematografía desempleada que se ve atraída por el caso de la señora Whitcomb y su relación con las primeras películas experimentales realizadas en Canadá. Lois, con pareja paciente y un hijo dentro del espectro autista, comenzará a obsesionarse con el asunto.
¿Quiere saber más de este libro, sin spoilers? Visite:
https://librosdeolethros.blogspot.com...
February 22, 2021
A case of the parts being better than the whole. A novel with many good ideas but none of them milked to their full potential. This book had so many interesting things in it - experimental films, obscure cults, the film industry and parapsychology.
But I found the first person narrator to be quite boring. She reminded me of some whiney people on social media. The old and the new do not always go well together in this book. The language and life of Lois, her husband, her mother, autistic child and co-workers jarred with the story of Mrs. Whitcomb, her movies shot on silver nitrate film stock and the folk horror milieu of the past.
I liked that Gemma Files tried to do a lot of character build up. This is what is lacking in most horror novels. But there was simply too much of Lois' boring husband and overbearing mother. Safie Hewsen, Lois' Yezidi assistant was also quite unremarkable.
Files packs it in with details about the Canadian movie industry and commentary on the copy+paste "content creator" world that we live in. But not all of it was particularly interesting. There was too much of the real world and less of the world with otherworldly beings. Sure, less is more. But the boring things eclipsed the interesting things.
The thrills were also quite banal and predictable. Ones that we have already seen in crappy modern horror movies.
But I found the first person narrator to be quite boring. She reminded me of some whiney people on social media. The old and the new do not always go well together in this book. The language and life of Lois, her husband, her mother, autistic child and co-workers jarred with the story of Mrs. Whitcomb, her movies shot on silver nitrate film stock and the folk horror milieu of the past.
I liked that Gemma Files tried to do a lot of character build up. This is what is lacking in most horror novels. But there was simply too much of Lois' boring husband and overbearing mother. Safie Hewsen, Lois' Yezidi assistant was also quite unremarkable.
Files packs it in with details about the Canadian movie industry and commentary on the copy+paste "content creator" world that we live in. But not all of it was particularly interesting. There was too much of the real world and less of the world with otherworldly beings. Sure, less is more. But the boring things eclipsed the interesting things.
The thrills were also quite banal and predictable. Ones that we have already seen in crappy modern horror movies.
November 16, 2017
A ver, cómo os lo explico... Es un libro en el que cuesta entrar. Al principio os vais a encontrar con un montón de datos sobre cine experimental canadiense y va todo un poco despacio. Sin embargo, está tan bien escrito (la traducción es bastante buena, además) que ni siquiera a mí, que últimamente tengo la capacidad de concentración de una mosca, ha conseguido espantarme.
Si soy sincera, más que la historia de terror (que está muy bien), lo que más me ha gustado del libro es la parte personal. Me da la impresión de que la autora lo ha utilizado para exorcizar sus demonios (no pun intended), y está todo ahí, a corazón abierto. Y sus demonios se parecen tanto a los míos en muchos aspectos que la novela me ha dejado tan hecha polvo como aliviada. El final, en el que terminan por confluir la experiencia personal y la historia de miedo, me hizo llorar como una Magdalena.
En fin, que aviso que no soy objetiva, pero el libro me ha encantado. La historia de la Dama del Mediodía (y el resto del folclore wendo), el estilo de la autora (y de la traductora), la información sobre Canadá y sobre el cine, la (para mí muy emotiva) situación familiar de la protagonista... Todo encaja y funciona. Y exorciza.
Si soy sincera, más que la historia de terror (que está muy bien), lo que más me ha gustado del libro es la parte personal. Me da la impresión de que la autora lo ha utilizado para exorcizar sus demonios (no pun intended), y está todo ahí, a corazón abierto. Y sus demonios se parecen tanto a los míos en muchos aspectos que la novela me ha dejado tan hecha polvo como aliviada. El final, en el que terminan por confluir la experiencia personal y la historia de miedo, me hizo llorar como una Magdalena.
En fin, que aviso que no soy objetiva, pero el libro me ha encantado. La historia de la Dama del Mediodía (y el resto del folclore wendo), el estilo de la autora (y de la traductora), la información sobre Canadá y sobre el cine, la (para mí muy emotiva) situación familiar de la protagonista... Todo encaja y funciona. Y exorciza.
July 16, 2019
DNF @ 103 pages
There is nothing worse than every one liking a book that you look forward to, only for it to be HORSESHIT.
Complete info dumps, bland characters, after 100 pages nothing noteworthy has happened apart from endless coffee meetings and laments on the Canadian film industry.
I gather some like it, but it wasn't for me.
There is nothing worse than every one liking a book that you look forward to, only for it to be HORSESHIT.
Complete info dumps, bland characters, after 100 pages nothing noteworthy has happened apart from endless coffee meetings and laments on the Canadian film industry.
I gather some like it, but it wasn't for me.
June 6, 2016
5 Stars
Experimental Film by Gemma Files is similar to it's name a work of experimental fiction. This is a horror novel. A pseudo documentary. A psychological thriller. It is an ode to the masters of horror fiction and horror movies movies. I loved this book. I was already familiar with Gemma Files and I am a fan. This story is a masterfully crafted work of art.
Files does an amazing job at defining experimental film making while at the same time throwing us deep into this horror story that is filled with mystery, suspense, and a bit of the unknown as well. The back story deepens the story line while at the same time ramping up the threat and suspense. Files writing is perfect for the play out.
The story within Experimental Film works because of the grounded characters. The pacing is old school, a slow burn that is ever more delicious at the outcome. I really enjoyed this book.
I have included several quotes that brings to light the story and the style of this thriller. I knew that I would love this book because on the first page Files includes a quote from my favorite horror author Caitlin Kiernan.
....
"That morning, Clark’s brain was full of static. He jumped and ran and laugh-screamed up and down our tiny apartment, caught in a perfect storm of reference and imitation, sliding from Kesha to Star Trek to Frozen to Law & Order: Special Victims Unit to various random TV commercials “OH DEAR!” he yelled, as I tried to simultaneously shoehorn him into a pair of pants and force him to eat his bacon. “OH NO! DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A SNOWMAN? SPACE, THE FINAL FRONTIER! BRUSH MY TEETH WITH A BOTTLE OF JACK! SEXUALLY BASED CRIMES ARE CONSIDERED PARTICULARLY HEINOUS! CEE ESS EYYYYE NEW YORRRRK!”
"...Songs and stories, rhymes and repetition—that’s what my son"
....
"So many individuals in different places, all with the same good idea. All, in their own ways, attempting to use light on a wall to open a window into another world. And how odd is it that the two guys who made the first viable motion picture happened to have a surname that means “light”? Still just coincidence? More like synchronicity."
....
"Clark sang, “this is how the world begins. Outside in and inside out, is how you blow a candle out.”“Inside out and inside out; Knock at the door, then turn about. Outside in and outside in . . .(there she stands so let her in) Inside, outside, more and more, Every mirror is a door. Outside, inside, mirrors break, To look has been your first mistake . . ."
.....
"It was slowing down, all of it—everything slipping sideways into a kind of a pocket, a funnel twisting slickly. Like the gap where your tooth used to be, where your tongue longs to go: stick it in, twist it, taste the blood. Because you know you shouldn’t."
Awesome read!
Experimental Film by Gemma Files is similar to it's name a work of experimental fiction. This is a horror novel. A pseudo documentary. A psychological thriller. It is an ode to the masters of horror fiction and horror movies movies. I loved this book. I was already familiar with Gemma Files and I am a fan. This story is a masterfully crafted work of art.
Files does an amazing job at defining experimental film making while at the same time throwing us deep into this horror story that is filled with mystery, suspense, and a bit of the unknown as well. The back story deepens the story line while at the same time ramping up the threat and suspense. Files writing is perfect for the play out.
The story within Experimental Film works because of the grounded characters. The pacing is old school, a slow burn that is ever more delicious at the outcome. I really enjoyed this book.
I have included several quotes that brings to light the story and the style of this thriller. I knew that I would love this book because on the first page Files includes a quote from my favorite horror author Caitlin Kiernan.
....
"That morning, Clark’s brain was full of static. He jumped and ran and laugh-screamed up and down our tiny apartment, caught in a perfect storm of reference and imitation, sliding from Kesha to Star Trek to Frozen to Law & Order: Special Victims Unit to various random TV commercials “OH DEAR!” he yelled, as I tried to simultaneously shoehorn him into a pair of pants and force him to eat his bacon. “OH NO! DO YOU WANT TO BUILD A SNOWMAN? SPACE, THE FINAL FRONTIER! BRUSH MY TEETH WITH A BOTTLE OF JACK! SEXUALLY BASED CRIMES ARE CONSIDERED PARTICULARLY HEINOUS! CEE ESS EYYYYE NEW YORRRRK!”
"...Songs and stories, rhymes and repetition—that’s what my son"
....
"So many individuals in different places, all with the same good idea. All, in their own ways, attempting to use light on a wall to open a window into another world. And how odd is it that the two guys who made the first viable motion picture happened to have a surname that means “light”? Still just coincidence? More like synchronicity."
....
"Clark sang, “this is how the world begins. Outside in and inside out, is how you blow a candle out.”“Inside out and inside out; Knock at the door, then turn about. Outside in and outside in . . .(there she stands so let her in) Inside, outside, more and more, Every mirror is a door. Outside, inside, mirrors break, To look has been your first mistake . . ."
.....
"It was slowing down, all of it—everything slipping sideways into a kind of a pocket, a funnel twisting slickly. Like the gap where your tooth used to be, where your tongue longs to go: stick it in, twist it, taste the blood. Because you know you shouldn’t."
Awesome read!
February 5, 2016
A slow burn through most of the first act, File's navigation of the Canadian film industry deftly illustrates the political/bureaucratic mess here in the True North. Toronto pitch rooms are for CFC darlings only, and even THEY have the damnedest time getting their films made. But I digress. Gemma's treatment of mythology throughout Experimental Film is expertly rendered and sublime. The greatest strength of her (possibly Catholic-soaked and autobiographical) narrative is often what she keeps just outside the frame. This is less a horror novel and more a work spirited in the direction of a historical thriller with exhilarating overtones of the supernatural/weird. It all feels very personal, and reaches deeply. Highly recommended for readers who love film history. Those who enjoy this novel should also seek out Files' short horror fiction, which is nearly without peer.
November 2, 2016
To most people, movies are disposable pieces of entertainment, there for you to while away some lazy weekend hours. But to those who are captivated not only by the medium’s marriage of art and technology, but its fascinating early history, film is the closest thing we have to a time machine, to a window into another world forever lost. Do a YouTube search for “oldest film footage ever,” and you’ll find yourself peering, even if only for 2 or 3 seconds, directly a dozen decades into the past. As a way of documenting the human experience, there’s nothing that has more profound impact. Just think if we had movie footage from the Roman Empire. On second thought, perhaps not. It might be pretty nasty.
Experimental Film is an exceptionally accomplished and mature work of literary horror and weird fiction that utilizes film as the gateway between not only past and present, but between our world and others best left unexplored. Gemma Files crafts a character-driven mystery rendered with the kind of narrative clarity you rarely see in this sort of genre fiction, balancing finely detailed writing with suspense, as well as emotional sensitivity to both the strengths and failings of its flawed protagonist.
Lois Cairns is a film critic and teacher in Toronto whose career has been in something of a slump, and the demands of raising a young son on the ASD spectrum are leaving her both exhausted and nursing a sense of guilt at feeling her own life and her own ambitions are being held back and left unfulfilled.
One evening, while screening some student films, she sees footage that appears to be really ancient. She interviews the filmmaker, a dude named Wrob who’s one of those twee, pretentious dilettantes you can usually find circulating among urban hipster art communities. Wrob is such a douche he’s added a completely superfluous W to his first name. After some investigating, Lois becomes convinced the footage was shot very early in the 20th century by an enigmatic lady named Mrs. Iris Whitcomb. Best known for spending most of her adult life veiled in mourning for her lost son, Hyatt, Iris became obsessed with the Spiritualist movement, for obvious reasons, and is known to have been provided with filmmaking equipment by her doting, wealthy husband. One day in 1918, Mrs Whitcomb boarded a train, locked herself in her first class cabin and disappeared while in transit.
The footage itself is bizarre. It appears to be a dramatization of an old Wendish legend about Lady Midday, a kind of demigod known for approaching farmers and laborers in their fields, trolling them with leading questions, and then slicing their heads off if they answer improperly. Mrs. Whitcomb, it turns out, may not have just shot one movie about this being, but several. With one of her students assisting, Lois believes she may finally have the research project that can get her a grant and the means to move forward professionally: the discovery of the surviving body of work, all of it shot on dangerously combustible silver nitrate film, of Canada’s honest-to-goodness first woman filmmaker. But the further Lois begins to dig into the mysteries of Mrs Whitcomb’s past, it becomes dangerously apparent that there may be more going on with this Lady Midday obsession than old folklore.
When I call Experimental Film literary horror, I mean it. If you’re looking for anything like a conventional scare story in the Stephen King mold, you’re in the wrong room. Gemma Files, whose own background in film runs deep, spends a good deal of time rooting her tale in the world of the Canadian film community, to such an immersive degree that a lot of the novel’s first 100 pages read like an actual critic’s film blog. But this has the benefit of grounding the plot, which will go off in pursuit of mythicism and nightmare, in a solid reality. Also, Lois’s personal family struggles — her son’s condition, her mother’s heartfelt but still annoying nagging, and the heroic patience and supportiveness of her husband — gives the character an emotional core that feels so true it’s sometimes uncomfortable. One interesting detail is the way her son Clark’s autism manifests, in that he speaks mostly by parroting dialogue he hears from TV shows and movies.
Experimental Film is a novel that comes to weird fiction at a complete right angle to just about anything else the genre has to offer. Like the earliest experimental filmmakers, Gemma Files is looking at horror narrative through a lens that’s just a little off-angle to the rest of her contemporaries. The result gives us real people, real drama, a compelling and increasingly nerve-wracking mystery, and, happiest of all, a tight plot that sticks the landing in the third act climax. It’s a unique and rewarding experience that will linger with you long after the credits have rolled and the house lights have come up.
Experimental Film is an exceptionally accomplished and mature work of literary horror and weird fiction that utilizes film as the gateway between not only past and present, but between our world and others best left unexplored. Gemma Files crafts a character-driven mystery rendered with the kind of narrative clarity you rarely see in this sort of genre fiction, balancing finely detailed writing with suspense, as well as emotional sensitivity to both the strengths and failings of its flawed protagonist.
Lois Cairns is a film critic and teacher in Toronto whose career has been in something of a slump, and the demands of raising a young son on the ASD spectrum are leaving her both exhausted and nursing a sense of guilt at feeling her own life and her own ambitions are being held back and left unfulfilled.
One evening, while screening some student films, she sees footage that appears to be really ancient. She interviews the filmmaker, a dude named Wrob who’s one of those twee, pretentious dilettantes you can usually find circulating among urban hipster art communities. Wrob is such a douche he’s added a completely superfluous W to his first name. After some investigating, Lois becomes convinced the footage was shot very early in the 20th century by an enigmatic lady named Mrs. Iris Whitcomb. Best known for spending most of her adult life veiled in mourning for her lost son, Hyatt, Iris became obsessed with the Spiritualist movement, for obvious reasons, and is known to have been provided with filmmaking equipment by her doting, wealthy husband. One day in 1918, Mrs Whitcomb boarded a train, locked herself in her first class cabin and disappeared while in transit.
The footage itself is bizarre. It appears to be a dramatization of an old Wendish legend about Lady Midday, a kind of demigod known for approaching farmers and laborers in their fields, trolling them with leading questions, and then slicing their heads off if they answer improperly. Mrs. Whitcomb, it turns out, may not have just shot one movie about this being, but several. With one of her students assisting, Lois believes she may finally have the research project that can get her a grant and the means to move forward professionally: the discovery of the surviving body of work, all of it shot on dangerously combustible silver nitrate film, of Canada’s honest-to-goodness first woman filmmaker. But the further Lois begins to dig into the mysteries of Mrs Whitcomb’s past, it becomes dangerously apparent that there may be more going on with this Lady Midday obsession than old folklore.
When I call Experimental Film literary horror, I mean it. If you’re looking for anything like a conventional scare story in the Stephen King mold, you’re in the wrong room. Gemma Files, whose own background in film runs deep, spends a good deal of time rooting her tale in the world of the Canadian film community, to such an immersive degree that a lot of the novel’s first 100 pages read like an actual critic’s film blog. But this has the benefit of grounding the plot, which will go off in pursuit of mythicism and nightmare, in a solid reality. Also, Lois’s personal family struggles — her son’s condition, her mother’s heartfelt but still annoying nagging, and the heroic patience and supportiveness of her husband — gives the character an emotional core that feels so true it’s sometimes uncomfortable. One interesting detail is the way her son Clark’s autism manifests, in that he speaks mostly by parroting dialogue he hears from TV shows and movies.
Experimental Film is a novel that comes to weird fiction at a complete right angle to just about anything else the genre has to offer. Like the earliest experimental filmmakers, Gemma Files is looking at horror narrative through a lens that’s just a little off-angle to the rest of her contemporaries. The result gives us real people, real drama, a compelling and increasingly nerve-wracking mystery, and, happiest of all, a tight plot that sticks the landing in the third act climax. It’s a unique and rewarding experience that will linger with you long after the credits have rolled and the house lights have come up.
September 22, 2017
4,25 / 5
Una exprofesora y crítica de cine, madre de un niño dentro del espectro autista, que comienza su historia de horror y obsesión tras acudir al pase de proyección de una película experimental en el cine de Toronto. El trabajo del pretencioso cineasta Wrob Barney, muestra una pieza de película antigua filmada sobre el peligroso y explosivo nitrato de plata que le recuerda a un cuento de su pasado. Cairns indagará sobre ello hasta lo obsesivo para dar con el nombre de la señora Iris Dunlopp Whitcomb, una artista del siglo XX que desapareció en extrañas circunstancias. ¿Y si la señora Whitcomb fuera la primera cineasta canadiense? Lois trabajará sobre ello, pero lo que descubrirá tras esa misteriosa persona, será el principio de su perdición.
La autora canadiense presenta una trama compleja llena de recovecos oscuros que se van destapando poco a poco. Jugando con un profuso conocimiento del cine canadiense, de mitos europeos y ocultismo, además de un drama familiar; nos cuenta una historia angustiosa, sorprendente, inquietante y turbadora hasta el final que se centrar más en el terror psicológico de sus personajes que en la propia historia.
La clave de todo es la voz narrativa, encarnada por Lois Cairns. Natural, realista, divagante. Podemos sentir la historia como nuestra, vivirla de primera mano, reflexionar al igual que Lois y hacernos participes de todo lo que le ocurrió. Gemma juega con el cliffhanger, con dejar sueltas ciertas frases para crear un texto lleno de suspense hasta los instantes finales.
Ante todo, hay que aclarar que Experimental film no es una novela que podamos etiquetar solo como terror. Varios géneros y temas además de una cierta historia sobrenatural se dan cita en toda la novela. Es más, me aventuro a decir que la historia central no es más que un esqueleto sobre el que montar todo el drama interior que vive Lois Cairns. Aún así, es una historia interesante, que aunque se alarga en exceso al final, sirve como punto de enganche durante la primera mitad.
Experimental film es una buena novela, interesante, adictiva, de las que atrapan rápidamente. Es una historia sobrenatural. Es una historia sobre nuestros miedos. Es una crítica al cine comercial actual. Es una historia sobre leyendas y mitos. Es una historia que merece ser leída.
Reseña extensa en el blog: http://boywithletters.blogspot.com.es...
Una exprofesora y crítica de cine, madre de un niño dentro del espectro autista, que comienza su historia de horror y obsesión tras acudir al pase de proyección de una película experimental en el cine de Toronto. El trabajo del pretencioso cineasta Wrob Barney, muestra una pieza de película antigua filmada sobre el peligroso y explosivo nitrato de plata que le recuerda a un cuento de su pasado. Cairns indagará sobre ello hasta lo obsesivo para dar con el nombre de la señora Iris Dunlopp Whitcomb, una artista del siglo XX que desapareció en extrañas circunstancias. ¿Y si la señora Whitcomb fuera la primera cineasta canadiense? Lois trabajará sobre ello, pero lo que descubrirá tras esa misteriosa persona, será el principio de su perdición.
La autora canadiense presenta una trama compleja llena de recovecos oscuros que se van destapando poco a poco. Jugando con un profuso conocimiento del cine canadiense, de mitos europeos y ocultismo, además de un drama familiar; nos cuenta una historia angustiosa, sorprendente, inquietante y turbadora hasta el final que se centrar más en el terror psicológico de sus personajes que en la propia historia.
La clave de todo es la voz narrativa, encarnada por Lois Cairns. Natural, realista, divagante. Podemos sentir la historia como nuestra, vivirla de primera mano, reflexionar al igual que Lois y hacernos participes de todo lo que le ocurrió. Gemma juega con el cliffhanger, con dejar sueltas ciertas frases para crear un texto lleno de suspense hasta los instantes finales.
Ante todo, hay que aclarar que Experimental film no es una novela que podamos etiquetar solo como terror. Varios géneros y temas además de una cierta historia sobrenatural se dan cita en toda la novela. Es más, me aventuro a decir que la historia central no es más que un esqueleto sobre el que montar todo el drama interior que vive Lois Cairns. Aún así, es una historia interesante, que aunque se alarga en exceso al final, sirve como punto de enganche durante la primera mitad.
Experimental film es una buena novela, interesante, adictiva, de las que atrapan rápidamente. Es una historia sobrenatural. Es una historia sobre nuestros miedos. Es una crítica al cine comercial actual. Es una historia sobre leyendas y mitos. Es una historia que merece ser leída.
Reseña extensa en el blog: http://boywithletters.blogspot.com.es...
January 2, 2018
Unnerving Magazine Review
I’m sitting here attempting to start with the negative aspects to get them out of the way, so I can cover all the wonderful points of this story without a nagging sensation, but I’m stuck. It’s fantastic. As the Sharp Cereal Professor said, ‘Nope, nothing wrong here.’
From the beginning, the author delves in the rare, unabashedly Southern Ontarian landscape which immediately hits on personal notes of intrigue. I know many of these landmarks and I’ve spent years in the area. For many Americans reading genre fiction, as well as for metropolitan English folk across the Atlantic, the chance to read something that carries notes, landmarks, and locally recognizable people is simple. It is comparatively rare for a Canadian horror story be so wholly Canadian in setting and be so well done.
And Experimental Film is a formed and engrossing horror story, told in a somewhat bouncy, non-linear style that teases and draws with equal skill. Gemma Files uses a Gothic tone and atmosphere that merges the past of film making with the present in a decidedly entertaining medley of shrouded, old-timey folklore practices snugged up with the more modern corruption of fame.
Every character was full as necessary and clear in their reasons (LOGIC, HOW I LOVE THEE), the issue of a child living with autism as a catalyst for stress while the meat of the story rolls forward kept the tension level on simmer.
Of course that is until they butt together and destiny seems inevitable after the slowly sizzling plot reveals itself.
The building cloud is heavy, the plot, characters, and scenery are engaging. Gemma Files nails this build-up, as ghosts are at their worst lingering on the fringe until pouncing and chewing through the humanity of it all. The finale was a surprise, but befitting on multiple levels. Experimental Film is the kind of book you take offense of when others state they don’t like it. I look forward to reading much more from Gemma Files. Experimental Film is fantastic story written beautifully.
I’m sitting here attempting to start with the negative aspects to get them out of the way, so I can cover all the wonderful points of this story without a nagging sensation, but I’m stuck. It’s fantastic. As the Sharp Cereal Professor said, ‘Nope, nothing wrong here.’
From the beginning, the author delves in the rare, unabashedly Southern Ontarian landscape which immediately hits on personal notes of intrigue. I know many of these landmarks and I’ve spent years in the area. For many Americans reading genre fiction, as well as for metropolitan English folk across the Atlantic, the chance to read something that carries notes, landmarks, and locally recognizable people is simple. It is comparatively rare for a Canadian horror story be so wholly Canadian in setting and be so well done.
And Experimental Film is a formed and engrossing horror story, told in a somewhat bouncy, non-linear style that teases and draws with equal skill. Gemma Files uses a Gothic tone and atmosphere that merges the past of film making with the present in a decidedly entertaining medley of shrouded, old-timey folklore practices snugged up with the more modern corruption of fame.
Every character was full as necessary and clear in their reasons (LOGIC, HOW I LOVE THEE), the issue of a child living with autism as a catalyst for stress while the meat of the story rolls forward kept the tension level on simmer.
Of course that is until they butt together and destiny seems inevitable after the slowly sizzling plot reveals itself.
The building cloud is heavy, the plot, characters, and scenery are engaging. Gemma Files nails this build-up, as ghosts are at their worst lingering on the fringe until pouncing and chewing through the humanity of it all. The finale was a surprise, but befitting on multiple levels. Experimental Film is the kind of book you take offense of when others state they don’t like it. I look forward to reading much more from Gemma Files. Experimental Film is fantastic story written beautifully.
January 12, 2016
Think The Ring + The Curse (another Japanese horror flick icydk) + Begotten (a crazy German... experimental film) + The Blair Witch Project.
One of the best horror novels I've ever had the pleasure of reading. A great mix of film history/technology and Slavic folklore. So glad I went ahead and bought this with Files' other book "We Will All Go Down Together" because this is slow-burn horror at its finest.
*shiver*
One of the best horror novels I've ever had the pleasure of reading. A great mix of film history/technology and Slavic folklore. So glad I went ahead and bought this with Files' other book "We Will All Go Down Together" because this is slow-burn horror at its finest.
*shiver*
February 25, 2022
Trying to keep the doomscrolling to a minimum, so I focused on inhaling this messy but ultimately entertaining book about haunted silver nitrate film that may make one more afraid of hot, sunny noon than traditional scary midnight and is an unexpected cautionary tale about removing your glasses before you fall asleep. Two & a half stars rounded up.
August 21, 2018
Experimental Film is a sprawling novel of weird, cosmic horror, but it kicks off as an intriguing historical mystery. Lois Cairns is a journalist and former film professor who believes she's stumbled on a discovery that will change history: Iris Whitcomb, a wealthy spiritualist who disappeared under mysterious circumstances in the late 19th century, may have been Canada's first female filmmaker, her experiments in special effects predating even Georges Méliès. The initial revelation comes by way of a short film 'made' (plagiarised) by antagonistic dilettante Wrob Barney; a particular fragment sparks obsession in Lois. The more research she does, the clearer (and more terrible) Whitcomb's motifs become. She frequently told versions of the same story through films and art: a story in which a terrifying female figure, clad in white and holding a scythe, tempts her victims to look up into the merciless midday sun.
Something that makes this book different: Lois's troubles aren't confined to ghostly apparitions and weird folk tales, and even once the supernatural stuff really kicks in, she faces many other obstacles. Wrob Barney is determined to have full credit for the discovery, at whatever cost. Meanwhile, Lois's mother thinks she shouldn't be working at all and should devote all her time to caring for her autistic son. And then there's Lois's increasingly debilitating migraines and insomnia, and the difficulty of getting funding for such a project in Canada to begin with... etc, etc.
Experimental Film is unusually told. It's not exactly non-linear but seems determined to diffuse tension and go in unexpected directions every time the action threatens to reach a climax. I actually really enjoyed this (though can imagine it being frustrating for some). There is just so much packed into this book; it might not always do what you expect or want it to, but one way or another, there's never a dull moment. While I thought the horror element was brilliantly executed, my favourite part might have been the first third – all the dense exposition, only occasionally interspersed with the slightest hint of something off-kilter. I love this kind of rich, textured and believable backstory, especially in horror fiction, which can so easily tip over into silliness.
Inevitably, there are times when it feels a bit overstuffed, when the details of Lois's family life threaten to overwhelm the main plot, or when her encyclopaedic knowledge – not just of cinema and filmmaking but of things like esoteric ancient religions – seems too good to be true. I also got a bit irritated with her voice: she uses certain unusual words way too much; by the end I'd had enough of the term 'overtop', for example, to last me a lifetime. (The fact that there are spelling mistakes in the book made me wonder whether this sort of thing was an editing oversight, rather than a deliberate feature of Lois's character.)
But a few flaws don't take away from what an innovative and surprising horror novel this is. I have no idea why on earth it took me so long to get round to Experimental Film, and I recommend it to anyone and everyone who loves ghost stories, intelligent horror, and/or engrossing mysteries with lots of background detail.
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Something that makes this book different: Lois's troubles aren't confined to ghostly apparitions and weird folk tales, and even once the supernatural stuff really kicks in, she faces many other obstacles. Wrob Barney is determined to have full credit for the discovery, at whatever cost. Meanwhile, Lois's mother thinks she shouldn't be working at all and should devote all her time to caring for her autistic son. And then there's Lois's increasingly debilitating migraines and insomnia, and the difficulty of getting funding for such a project in Canada to begin with... etc, etc.
Experimental Film is unusually told. It's not exactly non-linear but seems determined to diffuse tension and go in unexpected directions every time the action threatens to reach a climax. I actually really enjoyed this (though can imagine it being frustrating for some). There is just so much packed into this book; it might not always do what you expect or want it to, but one way or another, there's never a dull moment. While I thought the horror element was brilliantly executed, my favourite part might have been the first third – all the dense exposition, only occasionally interspersed with the slightest hint of something off-kilter. I love this kind of rich, textured and believable backstory, especially in horror fiction, which can so easily tip over into silliness.
Inevitably, there are times when it feels a bit overstuffed, when the details of Lois's family life threaten to overwhelm the main plot, or when her encyclopaedic knowledge – not just of cinema and filmmaking but of things like esoteric ancient religions – seems too good to be true. I also got a bit irritated with her voice: she uses certain unusual words way too much; by the end I'd had enough of the term 'overtop', for example, to last me a lifetime. (The fact that there are spelling mistakes in the book made me wonder whether this sort of thing was an editing oversight, rather than a deliberate feature of Lois's character.)
But a few flaws don't take away from what an innovative and surprising horror novel this is. I have no idea why on earth it took me so long to get round to Experimental Film, and I recommend it to anyone and everyone who loves ghost stories, intelligent horror, and/or engrossing mysteries with lots of background detail.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
October 23, 2023
"Mi cuerpo es un mero envoltorio de hueso, carne, sangre y mierda para mí frenético cerebro; una jaula sin llave."
Sin duda es una historia peculiar que logra una buena historia con un componente del folklore eslavo, que para muchos puede ser muy conocido, La dama del mediodía.
Me gusta como nos va introduciendo en la vida y mente de los personajes, en las vivencias y conflictos internos, sobre todo de nuestra protagonista, quien tiene una voz real, fuerte, sin adornos ni suavizar sus sentimientos. La familia de ella posee una gran construcción y rol dentro del libro.
Por otro lado el tema central, la investigación que ella comienza a realizar y como todo se fue desenvolviendo llevando la historia hacia lo sobrenatural, me ha atrapado y la he disfrutado mucho.
Mantiene un ritmo pausado en todo momento, no es un libro que se devore, sino más bien es de esos que te van dejando migajas para que vayas adentrandote más y más.
La pluma de la autora me gustó, se nota mucho, en la historia, su conocimiento del tema cinematográfico.
No es un libro que le recomendaría a todo el mundo, porque como dije al inicio, es extraño, aunque para mí fue muy bueno.
Sin duda es una historia peculiar que logra una buena historia con un componente del folklore eslavo, que para muchos puede ser muy conocido, La dama del mediodía.
Me gusta como nos va introduciendo en la vida y mente de los personajes, en las vivencias y conflictos internos, sobre todo de nuestra protagonista, quien tiene una voz real, fuerte, sin adornos ni suavizar sus sentimientos. La familia de ella posee una gran construcción y rol dentro del libro.
Por otro lado el tema central, la investigación que ella comienza a realizar y como todo se fue desenvolviendo llevando la historia hacia lo sobrenatural, me ha atrapado y la he disfrutado mucho.
Mantiene un ritmo pausado en todo momento, no es un libro que se devore, sino más bien es de esos que te van dejando migajas para que vayas adentrandote más y más.
La pluma de la autora me gustó, se nota mucho, en la historia, su conocimiento del tema cinematográfico.
No es un libro que le recomendaría a todo el mundo, porque como dije al inicio, es extraño, aunque para mí fue muy bueno.
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